


Three Words

by weaksoul (window_to_the_soul)



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, johnlock-if-you-squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/window_to_the_soul/pseuds/weaksoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John just wanted Sherlock to repeat those three words. Absolute crack, and I honestly have no excuse for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Words

John sat down on the couch next to Sherlock, poking him in the ribs.

"Come on, Sherlock! Just for me!" The consulting detective resolutely stared at his skull, seemingly not paying attention to the man on the sofa with him. "Sherlock!" John needled, poking him again for good measure.

"John, you do know that I hate repetition. I will not repeat myself," Sherlock huffed, throwing his head back. Staring at the ceiling. John wondered what he had to do to make the detective say the words again. 

"Fine, be that way," he allowed, finally, and got up. Carefully making his way over to the kitchen (there was something strewn in the doorway he certainly did _not_ want to step on), John called back over his shoulder; "You weren't lying, though, were you?"

"Why would I lie about something inconsequential as that?" came the bored-sounding reply. Any moment now, Sherlock would get up and start to torture his violin. John knew from experience that Sherlock-without-a-case was a Bit Not Good... Putting the kettle on he tried again.

"It's not inconsequential to me." He made sure to sound a little put out, just so he kept the annoying flatmate's attention. He had perfected this tone long time ago when Sherlock's death was still fresh and he couldn't believe the detective would stay. "I think it's an important step in our relationship!" John filled two mugs with hot water and put the tea bags in. Just before he was about to step back over the green-ish powder on the door sill, Sherlock came over to him. Standing as close as the detective was now, John could see the shadows cast by his cheekbones and his fingers itched to straighten the sheet Sherlock was wearing in lieu of actual clothing.

"Why would that be important, John?" Sherlock wanted to know. _Bloody wonderful_ , John thought. Now he had Inquisitive-Sherlock to deal with, and he could be a pain in the arse if he so desired. Well, Sherlock always somehow managed to be a pain in everyone's behinds, but... Sherlock leaned forward a little, crowding John's personal space. "Come on, tell me. We've been living together for over three years-"

"Most of which I thought you were _dead_ -"

"-and this really took you by surprise? It was bound to happen eventually. Just because you didn't see it coming doesn't mean it's somehow "important"." John could literally hear the quotation marks.

"Well," he ground out and pressed one of the mugs into Sherlock's waiting hand, "I still think it's a big step. I should probably tell Mycroft." 

"Why would _he_ be interested?" Sherlock asked, wrinkling his nose at the thought of the older Holmes-brother. "He'd just tell you to make me do it again."

"Won't you?"

"Won't I what?"

"Do it again? ‘Cause if you do, I might just not ring Mycroft." John grinned happily, leaning against the doorframe. Sherlock leaned closer yet, and his hot breath ghosted over John's lips.

"I might, possibly, do it again. Just to see your reaction." The thought of John's -admittedly gold-fish-like- dropped jaw must have made his day. John thought it was sad, really, that Sherlock had to find amusement in things like that, but he had been completely floored by his flatmate's words when he came through the door after work.

"Come on, just say it again," John asked, softly, staring directly into Sherlock's eyes, knowing full well that the detective found direct eye-contact still startling if he did not start it himself.

"Will you shut up if I say it again?" he breathed. John swallowed, then nodded. Abruptly straightening, Sherlock grinned wickedly at him and made his way back to the sofa. Flopping down, he said,

"I bought milk."

With a smile, John rubbed at the ring on his finger and went to join Sherlock for a cuppa.


End file.
